


Into the Fold

by TheDeathEcchi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Merciless Ana, Origins, Roadhog losing his shit, Tumblr Prompt, Two Junkers and an old lady, the grandma that cannot be stopped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:29:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9718802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeathEcchi/pseuds/TheDeathEcchi
Summary: A terrible idea is only a terrible idea if it doesn't work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thank [going-legit](http://going-legit.tumblr.com/post/156170255531/ive-always-liked-the-headcanon-that-ana-was-one) for coming up with an idea that I simply could not ignore, and for not killing me for springboarding off their ideas. If they're even aware I'm doing it at all~

Jamison Fawkes, aka Junkrat. Australian. 25 years of age. Master bomb maker and demolitions expert. Wanted for destruction of property, murder, arson, and several other crimes and wanted in numerous states. Intense radiation from the Australia Incident fallout has severely affected both physical and mental health. Known and vocal dissenter of Omnics. According to other reports, has learned of a great secret in the bones of the omnium, which makes him an extremely valuable and high-profile target. Bounty: 25 million.

Mako Rutledge, aka Roadhog. Australian. 48 years of age. Partner to Junkrat. Wanted for murder, kidnapping, and other violent crimes. Was offered an equal share of the profits in exchange for being Junkrat's bodyguard. Armed and highly dangerous. Known dissenter of Omnics. Bounty: 25 million.

Ana read over the files again, studying every word until it became engraved in her memory. Hefty bounties, for the both of them. And their crimes were laundry list long, and if she weren't aghast at their crimes, she would be rather impressed.

The sound of a twig cracking alerted her; smoothly and silently, she picked up her rifle, loaded it, and peeked through the slat in the wall of her hiding spot. The target was in range; a brutal gunrunner who next to the junkers she'd been studying, was nothing more than a schoolyard bully, but a bounty was a bounty, and Ana had come to collect.

"One shot, one kill..." she murmured, fighting back the angry, bitter feelings and memories the mantra brought back. She squeezed the trigger, and he was down, his entourage swarming him, wondering what happened.

Her job finished, Ana returned to the files. 50 million for both of them. 

It would be quite a payday. 

As well as quite the challenge.

-/-/-/-/-

Roadhog glared upwards at the ceiling of the greasy, crummy apartment that was their current hiding spot. It wasn't the peeling, cracked walls that irked him, nor was it the sounds of shouting from the couple next door whose heads he'd just _love_ to smear on the sidewalk, and it wasn't the sporadic series of gunshots and sirens.

It was Junkrat's snoring.

The younger criminal sounded like a rhino trying to service a motorcycle, and it made it incredibly difficult for him to sleep. They'd been eluding police for four straight days and hadn't gotten a moment's peace. He was tired, hungry, and not in the mood for his employer's chainsaw-like snoring.

He could've just smacked him and told him to stop snoring, it if Junkrat was capable of learning lessons, he wouldn't be...well, Junkrat. 

Throwing off his sheets and heaving himself out of bed, he decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. Shedding his trademark mask, he replaced it with a surgical one, put on a shirt, and disappeared into the night.

The air was cool and brisk, a relief to the Australian, who was used to far balmier nights. The city that was their current refuge was alive with sound, a living breathing creature that apparently never slept. 

A pang of hunger wracked him, and he decided a late-night snack wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He made his way towards a burger stand he and Junkrat passed on their way inside, barely noticing the shadow approaching him from an alley.

Roadhog bumped into someone garbed in a thick cloak. He instinctively reached for his Scrap Gun, only to pause when he saw it was just an old woman. "Watch where you're going." he growled.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry." she replied. Roadhog looked closer and saw the white eyepatch over her eye, and felt the tiniest smattering of guilt. "My depth perception isn't what it used to be."

"Whatever. You got one good eye. Use it." With that, he resumed his walk.

Ana watched him leave, carefully taking note of his steps, and the path from whence he'd come. Based on the surroundings, she presumed his hideout wasn't far. Silently, she retreated into the shadows, planning her next move.

-/-/-/-/-

Junkrat rose with a stretch, cracking his back and neck, a toothy smile on his face. "Helluva rest there, ey, Roadie? How 'bout you?"

Roadhog glared at Junkrat, the younger Aussie's snoring still echoing in his mind. "Not particularly."

"Sheesh, maybe you oughta try some warm milk before--" Roadhog was up and at him like a bullet, tackling the demoman to the floor. "What the hell's the big idea!?"

Silently, Roadhog reached over Junkrat and plucked something from the wall. A small vial of purple liquid, with a needle at the end.

"We need to leave. Now."

For once, Junkrat had no objections.

-/-/-/-/-

Ana never missed, nor did she believe in warning shots. So when she didn't hit her target, there was always a reason. The shot had been to coax the two out of their hiding spot, and from the way they exploded outwards into the street from the apartment, she surmised it had done its job.

Licking the tip of her finger, she checked the wind, gauged their footpath, and took aim. The crosshairs hovered over Roadhog's head. She'd need to take him down first, he was a much larger and dangerous target. With him out of the way, Junkrat would be easy pickings.

"A shame. He seemed quite nice." she sighed, pulling the trigger.

Fate intervened.

At the exact moment the shot fired, Roadhog had raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The bullet embedded itself into his hand, and she expected him to cry out. He didn't so much as flinch. Not stopping, he pulled it from his hand and looked upwards. 

Right where she was.

She was hidden too well; he couldn't possibly see her. But the gaze behind that mask seemed omniscient, as if he could pin her location down to the last coordinate. He motioned for Junkrat to pick up the pace, and the two sped off, out of Ana's sight line.

A smile crossed the elderly sniper's face as she holstered her rifle and gathered up her things. "Finally. A challenge."

-/-/-/-/-

"The fuck happened!?" exclaimed Junkrat as they sped off in the elder junker's motorcycle. 

"Someone shot at us." Roadhog replied simply.

"I know that, ya pig-faced cock! Question is 'who'!? Who the hell knows we're even here?"

It was actually a good question. One he couldn't entertain, as a massive explosion rocked the motorcycle, sending them sailing through the air.

-/-/-/-/-

Ana didn't particularly cared for claymores. She felt it was too much like cheating. But a 50 million dollar payday warranted a little...naughtiness.

From the smoke the two burst, still astride their ride, slightly charred but very much alive. Ana raised a brow, setting aside the detonator. "Just what are those boys made of?" She chewed on her lip; this was certainly going to be a much more complicated job than she thought.

-/-/-/-/-

An abandoned warehouse was their next haven, some hundred miles or so from their last. Junkrat groaned and collapsed against the wall, rubbing the crick in his neck. "What the bloody hell?" he muttered, more to himself than his friend. "What kinda psycho we got on our tail trying to use one of my greatest loves against me?" He was, of course, referring to the claymore.

Roadhog was silent as ever, but his mind was working furiously. Someone knew them, who they were, and sniffed them out. And even though they eluded capture for now, he doubted they would give up the chase so quickly, especially with their high price tags.

"Don't leave, even for a second." Roadhog ordered as he headed off to secure the perimeter. 

"Oi! What if I've gotta--" His words were cut off as a bucket smacked him in the face. "Roight!" he shouted back. "But what if I needta--" A second, larger bucket hit him.

-/-/-/-/-

The moon was high and the air still as Ana approached the warehouse. Tracking the two when they'd left in such a hurry was difficult, but you don't retain the title of 'world's best sniper' into your 60s for nothing. It was an old, dingy warehouse, and it made their last dwelling look like a palace. But she herself knew that the most important aspect of a safehouse was its practicality, not its aesthetic. 

Crouching low, rifle at the ready, she crawled through the dense brush around the warehouse, single eye at the ready, finger poised to fire. 

A blob of shrapnel missed her head by mere centimeters and embedded itself into the ground. She kept silent, but her heart rate nearly tripled. 

"I know you're there." came a gravely voice. "Out, with your hands up."

 _'Damn.'_ thought the sniper. 

Slowly, Ana rose, coming face to face with the towering form of Roadhog. His Scrap Gun was raised directly at her ten ring, finger on the trigger. Behind his mask, his eyes widened. "You...you're that old crone from the street."

"How rude." she tutted, a trace of her motherly instincts shining through. "Didn't anyone teach you to respect your elders?"

Roadhog scoffed. "I'm 48."

"And I'm 60." Ana smirked. "So you had best watch your tone, young man."

She held her stance even as Roadhog cocked his weapon. "Just who the hell are you? And why're you chasing us?"

"I'm just an old sniper. And the two of you combined are 50 million. Who wouldn't want to hunt you both down?"

A deep, guttural sound emanated from Roadhog, and it took a few moments for her to realize he was laughing. "Nice last words."

Ana flicked her wrist and a biotic grenade slid into her hands just as Roadhog hefted his weapon to fire. Swerving to the side, she lobbed the grenade, just as the Scrap Gun went off, a cone of shrapnel just barely nicking her arm.

The grenade exploded at Roadhog's feet, making him cry out in pain. Ana gripped her rifle and fired three quick rounds, each burying deep into Roadhog's meaty arm. 

"Son of a **_bitch_**!" he snarled, tromping back to the warehouse.

 _'Surprisingly fast for one so large.'_ Ana thought, pursuing her target. He disappeared into the warehouse, and just as she crossed the threshold herself, she realized her mistake. 

Junkrat and Roadhog stood at the opposite end of the warehouse, at the back exit. Grinning, Junkrat waved at her, and she saw the detonator in his hand. Glancing around, she saw the bombs that had been armed in the door, the manic, painted faces grinning down at her.

"Oh, dear." were the only words she managed to get out before the warehouse was consumed in flame.

-/-/-/-/-

"Whoo!" cackled Junkrat as they sped off once again. The warehouse was an inferno, the explosion reaching towards the sky. "Lookit that beautiful bonfire, Roadie! Might be my finest work since London!"

An explosion like that would surely be seen for miles, which meant a considerable amount of attention, and just as much driving. Something that two highly wanted fugitives didn't exactly relish. 

But, Roadhog thought. If it got that white-haired bitch wiped from existence, he could live with it.

-/-/-/-/-

Thousands of miles, a boat ride, even more driving, and what they guessed to be an entire continent later, and the two were finally able to relax. 

"I'm dead, Roadie." wheezed Junkrat as he faceplanted the floor of...was it a factory or a dungeon? He wasn't sure, but at the moment he didn't care. It was the most comfortable spot he'd been in weeks. His good leg felt like jelly, his body was sore, and he swore he had a crick in his neck that wouldn't go away for a week. "Ol' Junkrat's headed for that great big firework stand in the sky. Put flowers on me grave, would ya? Roses'd be nice."

Roadhog didn't even have the energy to tell Junkrat to shut up.

-/-/-/-/-

Though their travels were long and winding, Ana was able to track them with relative ease. And along the way, she learned a few things.

The two junkers were sort of modern-day Robin Hoods. They may not have given to the poor, but they certainly took from the rich. That sneaking bastard from Hyde Global had gotten what he deserved when he and his office were blown sky high, and they seemed to almost exclusively target corporate types, usually those who had done shady dealings. Whether or not they knew was unknown to her, but if that was the case, it was quite the coincidence. 

"I wonder if there's a future for these two that doesn't involve a life of crime..." Ana wondered, her motherly instincts briefly flashing through. She shook the thoughts from her head. Accidental vigilantes or not, they were still criminals, and all that awaited them at the end of their journey was the iron hammer of justice.

Although...

An idea formed in her head that she saved for later. If she made it out alive from this encounter, and things went her way, it wouldn't be the worst idea in the world.

She approached the warehouse, rifle cocked, ready to begin her siege.

-/-/-/-/-

The sound of the door to the factory opening made both men jolt awake, and Junkrat swore he was having a nightmare when he recognized the hunched, rifle-wielding figure, a beaming smile on her face. "Hello, boys."

"You gotta **_fucking be kidding me_**!!" screamed Junkrat, grabbing his frag launcher. "The hell's your deal, lady!? Ain't you got a husband you can bog 'stead of chasin' us halfway 'round the bloody world?"

"I'm married to my work." Ana replied, firing off a round.

Roadhog stepped in front of the bullet, practically ripping it out of his body. He hadn't slept decently in weeks, been choking down survival rations (they didn't dare stop long enough for a proper meal), and he. Was. _Pissed._

"Push off!" roared the elder junker, launching a blob of shrapnel at the sniper. 

Ana dove out of the way at the last second as Junkrat jumped from behind Roadhog, ululating a battle cry and firing grenades in her general direction. The sniper disappeared behind a large machine, the two running after her. 

"To hell with laying low!" Junkrat snarled as he reloaded. "I'm not gonna get another night of sleep with this crazy bitch chasing us down! We're turning her into mincemeat, pal!"

Roadhog couldn't agree more. 

Junkrat took the left while his bodyguard flanked right, hoping to corner their attacker. But as they rounded the corners, they were met with emptiness. "The fuck? Where the hell'd she--" The demoman cried out in pain as three syringes appeared in his arm. Looking up, Roadhog could barely make out her silhouette on the catwalk above them.

His hand was a blur as he tossed out his hook, catching Ana in the leg. Yanking her down, he readied his gun--

"Again!?" he screamed, covering his eyes at the biotic grenade exploded in his face, Ana beating a hasty retreat into the shadows. Screw it; he was done being polite. 

Wiping the fluid from his eyes, he fished in his pocket for a top-loader and crammed it atop his gun, scooping up what scrap metal he could. "Junkrat!"

Behind him, his employer was cackling with manic glee as he slammed his trusty wheel onto the ground. "Waaaaaay ahead a ya!" Yanking the cord, his wheel was on the move as Roadhog went 'whole hog', so to speak, firing shrapnel wildly.

A peek around a corner was all it took for Roadhog to get a bead on her, and he aimed his gun at her, tromping forward. Ana swore in Arabic as several pieces of white hot metal embedded themselves into her leg. Acting quickly, she tore off a piece of her cloak and bandaged it. Shoddy, but workable. Unfortunately, the impromptu first aid had given Roadhog time to close the gap, and his killing intent was practically a force of nature as he approached.

Reaching at her side, she drew her sidearm and fired. He took the hit head-on, as she expected he would, thinking it was another syringe.

It took only a second for the sleeping agent to activate, and Roadhog crumpled to the floor in a heap. Sighing, Ana holstered her sidearm and rubbed her temples, trying to get the buzzing of the engine out her head--

Engine?

She whirled around just in time to see the spiked tire approaching her, and the cache of explosives attached to it. Homemade, like apparently everything the junkers owned, but it seemed remarkably effective.

"Damn." she muttered, holding her rifle in front of her.

It offered meager protection from the explosion; the gun fell apart in her hands as she was thrown back, skidding to a short stop, right in front of a smiling Junkrat.

"G'day." he laughed, pointing his first launcher at her right between the eyes. "And g'night."

_click._

Time froze as three eyes widened in shock. Curiosity mixing with fear, Junkrat stared down the barrel of his weapon and pulled the trigger again. _click._

"Er, just a tick." Junkrat smiled, turning to the side. Diving into his pockets for more ammo, he felt his heart sink when he felt nothing but the cloth of his shorts. Empty. He was out of explosives.

Through the days of trying to escape the crazed grandmother sniper from hell, neither Roadhog nor Junkrat seemed to remember to do a supply run.

He turned around to see Ana sitting a few feet away, a smirk on her face. "Take your time."

Fuming, he threw his launcher to the ground, let out a primal scream, and charged at her. "I'll rip ya apart with me bare fuckin' hands!" Undaunted, she held a hand out and caught Junkrat by the temple. He clawed at her, fingers just out of reach, flailing about like a petulant child.

After about ten minutes, he fell to the ground, defeated. Roadhog still slept soundly, gun hanging limply in his hand. 

"Are you quite finished?" asked Ana. 

"Go ta hell." mumbled Junkrat against the grimy floor. All was silent for a few moments until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Ana with two cups of steaming tea, handing one to him. "Yer off yer rocker. I ain't gonna let you poison me."

"Poison isn't really my style. Neither is sharing. But I'm making an exception." She continued to hold out the cup.

Growling, Junkrat pushed himself up and gripped his canteen. "Bollocks to you and your leaf juice." snapped the junker. "I got me own provisions." Uncapping the canteen, he raised it to his lips, eager for the sweet taste of his milk tea...and tasted nothing.

He'd forgotten to restock his canteen, too. 

On the verge of a seizure, Junkrat nearly yanked the cup from Ana and muttered into it. From the second it touched his lips, he felt renewed, fresh, and calm. "This ain't half bad." he whispered, more to himself than Ana. "What's it made of?"

"Dried fish scales and the ashes of holy men." Ana held back a laugh as Junkrat sputtered and coughed. "It's Earl Grey with a bit of lemon."

The two sat in silence, taking sips of tea. Junkrat kept his eyes trained on the elderly sniper, but, to his irritation, she seemed nonplussed at the act of having tea with one of the most dangerous men on the planet. 

"Well, if that's all," she spoke, gathering up the remains of her rifle. "I'll be off. Your friend should be up in about an hour. Maybe less."

"Hold it, hold it, hold it!" Junkrat snapped. "Ya chase us all over this bloody blue marble, corner us here, and now that's it? Is that's how yer gonna leave it?"

There was a pause before Ana answered. "I suppose it is. We're both tired, out of ammunition, and I'm not sure about you, but I need a long, hot shower. And truthfully, hunting the two of you has lost quite a bit of its allure. I'll make fifty million some other way." 

Junkrat's jaw was nearly on the floor, but he managed enough brainpower to form one last sentence. "Who the hell _are_ ya, lady?"

Ana stood in the doorway and turned around, giving Junkrat a smile. "I told you before," she replied, disappearing into the night. "Just an old sniper."

-/-/-/-/- _Some time later..._

More surprising to find out that Overwatch was active again and its former leader was alive, was that they were being called on to join. At first, the two thought it was a clever joke, but one look at the scarred, battle-hardened face that belong to Jack Morrison, and they knew; he wasn't one to joke.

The memories of their last attempt to 'go legit' we're still fresh in their mind, but that was with some self-assured prick in a suit. This was different. At least, they were hoping. Both wanted a pretty good change of scenery. 

The watchpoint was spacious, bigger than even the omnium from their first forays into destruction and mayhem. Jack walked them through, concluding the tour with the mess hall. "Here's where we'll meet for our meals. Unlike Winston, I'm a stickler for time, so don't be late." It was more of an order, not a suggestion. "My friend who vouched for you guys, she might say the world of you, but I won't take my eyes off you two for a second, not 'til I'm a hundred percent I can trust you."

Words that fell on deaf ears. Because the second they entered mess, the woman sitting at the table made them stop dead. A very familiar, old woman with one eye and a rifle. Taking notice of them, she set down her cup--the familiar scent of Earl Grey and lemon emanated from it--and waved at them, with that same cheeky grin. "Hello, boys."

"Yeah, roight, so...we're gettin' the fuck outta here." spoke Junkrat simply, before bolting in the other direction, Roadhog right at his heels. 

Jack stared at the two as they ran, turning back to Ana. "What the hell was that?"

"Who knows?" she replied, smiling into her tea.


End file.
